


Impatience

by MariaSpade



Series: PruAus Drabbles [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Clothed Sex, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaSpade/pseuds/MariaSpade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the best pair of jeans were made to make a mess of. And sometimes Roderich gets impatient. (Part of a series but does not have to be read that way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impatience

Roderich was always weird about sex. Since the first time they made love, there was no pattern or reason to some of the things Roderich would or would not do.  
Like his piano, he was weird about that. Time after time, sometimes Gilbert wouldn’t say even a word about it, but Roderich would remind him there was to be no sex on the piano. No sex anywhere near the piano, really. In the music room. They weren’t so much as to bump against the music room door on their way to their bedroom. Roderich was so very very strict about that, until he wanted sex in the music room. Then it was all very careful, it was all well don’t bump into this, don’t touch that, I swear to Gott Gilbert if you get cum on my floors.   
Then there was the kitchen (Roderich was more particular about where sex happened versus what they did). Absolutely nothing in the kitchen, because that was where they ate and made food and to get it dirty like that was not okay. Up until, of course, the point that is was in Roderich’s best interest. And Gilbert knew he could get around this rule whenever he liked, because for some reason, there was something about him absolutely stark naked standing in the kitchen with just an apron around his waist that Roderich liked. Like he really, really liked it. And any time Gilbert really felt like revenge for something he would tie an itty bitty, tight, short apron on and stand in the kitchen and wait. That was all, just wait. And by the time they were through Roderich would be right back to huffing and puffing about the mess in the kitchen and cleaning it up.   
And then there was this. It came out of nowhere, really. Sometimes it was after Roderich got home from a long day of work. Sometimes it was in the middle of them baking together. It was always quiet and calm, like before a hurricane, and then Roderich just… just jumped him. Really. Those were the only words for it. He liked to use his hands, he liked to touch, Gilbert found out on these days. He liked to pull up on Gilbert’s shirt and touch his stomach and chest, run his hands over the scarred skin, and when he was feeling really frisky, his hands dipped down lower and took a handful of his behind. He liked to grab, that was for certain. And this was weird, this was all weird, because nobody who looked at Roderich took him for such a person. They took him (Gilbert knew this because it was his first opinion of Roderich as well) as one of those pretty rich boy aristocrats who was too good to touch and wouldn’t dirty his hands with things like sex. But sometimes, just sometimes, it was really, really hard to get him to the bedroom before he started being frisky.  
An hour before Roderich returned from work, Gilbert decided it was a good time to start cleaning. There wasn’t much else to do around the house when Roderich was gone, and he had yet to do anything today but lie across the couch and blog. It really wouldn’t take him more than an hour to clean, anyway. He started with vacuuming the downstairs, pushing the vacuum across the carpet. Then he went to work on last night’s dishes. Roderich was opening the front door by the time Gilbert was half way through dusting the wooden furniture. Well, what he heard was the click of the door as Roderich unlocked it, then it opened and closed, locked again (he was very careful about keeping their home secure) and then hands were on him. Hands were on his rear, specifically, grabbing him through his jeans, cupping and squeezing. Gilbert hardly had time to make a surprised noise and welcome Roderich home before he was against the wall, nearly knocking over the end table. Quick as anything Roderich’s lips were messy against his, impatient, he couldn’t seem to decide whether he should use his hands to loosen his tie or grab more of Gilbert.   
These sort of days always took Gilbert off guard. They were rare but not unheard of and not unappreciated, that was for certain. Quickly Gilbert’s fingers latched into Roderich’s hair- he was weird about this whole thing, too, in the way that more than once when they had started fierce and out of nowhere like this, Roderich had decided enough was enough and had just stopped, changed his mind, and walked away. Maybe, maybe if Gilbert got his fingers in his hair tight enough, he wouldn’t want to leave. That was when his hips started to move. (Roderich’s, not Gilbert’s. Which seemed important, seeing as Roderich was honestly the impatient one for a change.)   
Gilbert knew when his hips started to move Roderich was not going anywhere. And apparently, today, nowhere literally meant nowhere because hard as Gilbert tried to get the Austrian to budge towards their bedroom he was not moving.  
“The bed,” Gilbert insisted with a quiet gasp. Roderich was skilled with his fingers, no doubt, but his hips did devious things as well. The way they moved against him, the Prussian was up and hard within a minute.  
“Hold on,” Roderich grunted against his neck. He had already given up on kisses, which took time and energy and were supposed to be clean and instead his lips were doing things to the albino’s neck he wasn’t aware they could do.   
“Bed,” he insisted again, tugging on Roderich’s loose shirt collar.   
“I said hold on,” Roderich muttered, his hips gyrating against Gilbert’s. Well, it could hardly be counted as gyrating, there’s a certain rhyme and reason to gyrating that wasn’t behind the Austrian’s hips. He was rubbing against Gilbert, that was for sure, and Gilbert knew his hips were moving against Roderich’s, rubbing themselves together through their trousers.   
The albino man whined softly. N, no, he liked these jeans, he looked good in these jeans, they fit him very well, and he would never be able to wear them the same again if he came in them. Roderich seemed to be very determined, though, and Gilbert could see the stress of a long day in his tired, violet eyes, so he shut his mouth quickly.   
Roderich kept moving, and Gilbert could feel a bulge against his own, rubbing together, making that wonderful friction they both adored. Roderich’s movements were getting frantic, faster, and the Prussian knew there was no getting him to bed just yet, not now. He was too far along to ever be agreeable to getting to the bed. Roderich sighed heavily against Gilbert’s neck, hands on the wall behind them. His hips moved fast and hard and his movements were deep, digging his hips into his lover’s. Gilbert winced while Roderich was at his neck and couldn’t see- he was sure his hips were going to bruise. And tonight when they finally did get to bed, Roderich would be gentle and kiss away the bruises, and then he would form new ones in different places. Roderich could be like that, he knew when he was rough and he was always apologetic about it afterwards.  
Roderich came first. Gilbert could tell because when he came in his trousers (again, this was rare but not unheard of) he made this soft whimpering noise, and he bit down on his bottom lip, and he dug his head into Gilbert’s neck. The movement of his hips faltered, for a moment they slowed, then they stopped and he groaned, soft and breathy, against the pale skin of his lover’s neck.  
Gilbert did not go forgotten. His Austrian was not an uncaring lover. Once he was finished with his own orgasm he kept Gilbert pinned to the wall. His hips moved again, rutting against Gilbert, rubbing him through his jeans. Already a dark spot had formed on the front of his work trousers, but for the moment being Roderich took no notice. Gilbert whined soft and high, hands on Roderich’s shoulders, and the Austrian’s breath left him short in huffs. Gilbert tilted his head back and it hit the wall with a dull thud. His eyes closed as warmth pooled and coiled tighter and tighter in his groin, until he knew it was moments until he was finished. There was the explosion of white in his vision, and a long, drawn out moan he would be embarrassed to admit he made. A sticky warmth in his underwear- that would be troublesome to get clean- and the shakings of his orgasm through his body.   
He opened his eyes when he knew his body was spent and done. Oh goodness. That warm stickyness in his underwear felt good now, coming down from that high, but he knew how troublesome it was to take his underwear off and get it clean afterwards. But with those gorgeous violet eyes looking up at him Gilbert could only let out a quiet little laugh.  
“Don’t look at me like that,” Gilbert murmured. “You were the one who couldn’t wait to get into a bed properly and strip.”  
“These were my favorite work trousers, Gilbert,” Roderich said, pushing himself up properly instead of relying on the wall for support.   
“These were my favorite jeans,” Gilbert replied with a huff.  
“They’re my favorite jeans as well,” Roderich said with a wicked little smile. Gilbert only smiled in return and laughed light and quiet, pulling Roderich towards the downstairs bathroom.   
“Come on, you, if we soak them now they’ll be fine.” Roderich smiled again and followed him, shutting the door behind them. These days were few and far between but they were worth it, every second and every pair of trousers the had ever trashed.


End file.
